Sputnik Music Forums

oby likes corners because in corners he can be sure there is no one behind him. He can be sure that all he sees is all that is there. If he cannot sleep, he will find his corner and try and hum something to himself. He cannot recall where he has ever heard this music, but it is always in his mind.

Tonight, however, all he can hear are whispers. The voices belong to no one and come from nowhere and reverberate off each other in a nightmarish cacophony. He screams for them to stop, but they only crawl closer and closer to his mind. He tucks his chin to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut and pleads for a moment of quiet.

And there is. The noises are snapped off with the suddenness of a cleaver hitting a cutting board, or a chair clattering to the ground or a body… He refuses to think of it.

Cautiously, he looks up. He can feel the presence of someone in the room. He can hear the sound of heels against the concrete floor…

“Mrs. Lovett?” He whimpers. She smiles, her hands tucked into the pockets on her apron. She must have her bon-bons in there, Toby thinks, and she’s brought them to him because he has been such a good boy.

“Yes, love?”

“Oh, Mrs. Lovett! Oh, you don’t know how much I have wanted to see you!”

She smiles and she is just how she remembered her. She leans down before him, bending her knees and cupping a hand over his cheek. She kisses his forehead quickly. Toby laughs for the first time in longer than he can recall.

“You’ve come for me, haven’t you?” He squeals. “I knew you would, I knew it and I told them all!”

She sits beside him and runs her hand over his cheek. With a small gasp he closes his eyes and leans into her touch, rubbing his cheek against the warmth of her skin. It feels so right and real and he can almost imagine he is in Mrs. Lovett’s parlor again. He cannot help but weep beneath his breath.

“You’ve come to take me home, mum, haven’t you?” He says hopefully, pressing against the palm of her hand.

“No, Toby. I haven’t.”

When she says that, she sounds too much like the woman doctor who always comes to take care of him. Mrs. Lovett had always said ‘yes.’ He looks at her, to make sure it is still Mrs. Lovett.

“I’ve come to talk.” She says.

“About what?” He asks, resting his head between the crook of her neck and her shoulder. She had always let him find his place against her body after long days in the shop and held him there protectively. There was always a place and it was always very warm.

“You made a promise to me, didn’t you Toby?”

He is too overwhelmed to respond with more than a whimper. He rubs his cheek against the fabric over her shoulder. There is the same warmth he felt back in her shop… in her parlor… in her room.

“You promised you’d never let anything harm me. Didn’t you.”

This time it is no longer a question.

“Yes, mum. I did.”

“But what happened, Toby?” She asks, pushing his head upright. Toby gasps sharply and stares straight ahead. She presses close to his ear and whispers, and he does not question.

“What happened to me, Toby?” She hisses a little too dangerously. His face pales and he chokes on his words.

“He… he killed you.” He whimpers as he begins to cry.

“That’s right, Toby. He did.” She responds coolly, drawing back.

He would bury his face in his hands if only his arms were free. He doesn’t want Mrs. Lovett to see him like this. He can’t breathe.

“So what did you do?”

“I k-killed him!” He splutters.

“You killed him. But you did it for me, didn’t you? Because of your promise.”

“I didn’t know what I was doin’, mum, I swear!” He sobs, finding it hard to fit his words between his gasps for air.

“Shh, shh. Toby, love, it’s alright. You did what was right.” She says, punctuating her words with a small kiss to Toby’s ear that makes him shudder and bite his lip.

“I killed Mr. Todd.” He repeats, softer this time. Mrs. Lovett has her face pressed so closely to Toby’s and she is playing idly with his hair and he feels like her child again.

“No one has to know what happened on Fleet Street.”

“No, mum, they do. They do because… because every night I – I see it. And every night you die and I watch you. And every night there is blood everywhere and it is on my hands and his shirt and I know I’ve killed him and – ”

She slides a hand gently over his mouth and beckons him to look at her.

“Listen to me, love.” She says so kindly she must be right. “You mustn’t tell anyone the truth.”

He tries to push farther into the corner and away from her, but she keeps her hand over his lips.

“Ah, Toby. Stop.” She says lightly. He listens and she rewards him as she threads her fingers through his hair lightly. Closing his eyes with a shaky exhalation, he lets her. It makes him feel safe again.

“Good boy.” She coos softly. “Just like you always were.”

She runs her hands over his cheeks and simply caresses his skin affectionately. Toby’s stomach tightens and he wants to scream in delight. It’s been so long since anyone has called him Toby, even. Oh, how he has missed her…

“But there is something you must promise me, love.”

…Her skin is so warm and her hands are so soft. She is even warmer than he remembered, and that makes him cry.

“Oh, I’d do anything for you, mum.”

“Of course you would, you sweet child. You cannot tell anyone about what Mr. Todd and I did.”

“But… I –”

She grips at his face tightly and he gasps. She smells like the bakehouse.

“Toby, it would hurt me so much if you were to tell them anything bad about me.” She pleads desperately. “Don’t hurt me, Toby. Don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t, Mrs. Lovett. I promise.” He says softly. She eases up on her grip and wipes his cheeks gently.

“What a good, quiet boy. I knew I could count on you, Toby.”

“Of course, mum. I wouldn’t harm you. And you wouldn’t harm nobo…” He trails off and Mrs. Lovett smiles like she knows something terrible and wonderful all at once.

“That’s right.” She says confidently. “You wouldn’t harm anyone. And neither would I. Isn’t that right, Toby dear?”

Completely in submission, he nods. She licks her lips and grins.

“Good.”

And she is kissing him with tactless, bruising force, her nails digging into the skin of his face. Tears well up in his eyes and he is unsure if he is pleased or terrified. There’s something entirely animalistic and cold and hungry… and he is still too happy to give in to her. He claws at the inside of the straightjacket to stop from screaming, but he wants her to stay. He wants more of her. He leans into her and she pulls away deliberately, pushing the weight of his body back against the corner of the wall. He wants her back already.

She stands and brushes off her skirt, and Toby hopes for a moment that she will bend down and help him to his feet and she will take him with her. She makes her way to the door.

“You’ll come back for me, won’t you, Mrs. Lovett?” He asks tentatively. She turns on her heel and sneers, pushing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. She raises her chin and looks down at him past the bridge of her nose. Toby cannot decide if he is frightened of her or not, but he decides he will listen to her. She leaves him alone in his corner to try and sleep – but there are too many demons tonight, and the music is not playing in his mind.

The next morning, Toby does not tell anyone of Fleet Street. But the staff makes a note that he had been talking to himself all night. Hallucinations, they presume. They ease up on the medication.

“She came.” Toby tells the woman who cares for him the next morning, both hushed and excited.

“Who came?” She asks somewhat disinterestedly, helping Toby out of the corner. She guides his stiff arms out of his straightjacket.

“Mrs. Lovett.” He breathes. “And she’s coming for me. Tonight, ma’am.”

She presses her hand to Toby’s forehead. No fever. She turns to mark something on a clipboard.

“She is.” He says reassuringly. He thinks the woman is smiling a little, very earnestly, when she turns back to him with a syringe, so he smiles back.

“I’ll miss you, ma’am, I suppose.” He says, brushing his fingers absentmindedly over his lips. He thinks of Mrs. Lovett’s parlor.

“Of course.” She responds, taking his arm in her hands.

With less of the medication, Toby finds himself growing more and more tired. However, he keeps awake to see if Mrs. Lovett will come back for him.

She doesn’t.